Free Beauty in Breeches by Helen Dickson

what subject?’
    â€˜On the subject of your ridiculous forfeit—our future.’ In an endeavour to disguise the tension that had gripped him and the way her nearness was affecting him, how he found it nigh impossible to look away from her golden hair lightened by the sun, her unfathomable green eyes and beckoning fragrance, he took a couple of steps away from her and gazed over the gardens. ‘Am I honestly supposed to take you—I mean, this proposal—seriously?’
    â€˜I assure you, I am completely serious.’
    â€˜Then do you mind if I ask you a few questions?’
    â€˜Ask me anything you like.’
    He tilted his head to one side, his face a mirror of bewilderment and disbelief. ‘Are you, by any chance, under the influence of drink, Miss Fanshaw?’
    â€˜Absolutely not. I rarely drink anything stronger than watered-down wine.’
    â€˜Then am I supposed to believe that at some point you might have fallen in love with my larger-than-life reputation? That is what it would have to be since, to my knowledge, we have never met.’
    â€˜That scenario is as ludicrous as the one before it.’
    â€˜Then it can hardly come as a surprise to you to learn that I might have some objections to the proposal.’
    â€˜It wasn’t a proposal.’
    Julius’s contemplation was steady. ‘What was it, then? An order?’
    â€˜No.’ The word was out before Beatrice had considered it. She tried to erase the admission with a casual wave of her hand. ‘That is…’
    â€˜ Plain speaking I believe I said. I don’t like being forced. It goes against my grain. It is a most unwise thing for you to do. Most unwise. How dare you compromise me in this manner?’
    Beatrice lifted her chin. ‘I had hoped you were too much of a gentleman to renege on your word.’
    â€˜I don’t have to be a genius to work out that you planned this. What concerns me now, what we need to discuss, is what comes next.’ Leaning against a low stone wall and resting his arm on the top, letting his hand dangle limply, he caught her glittering gaze and held it. ‘Tell me. When do you want the wedding to take place?’
    â€˜Why, I…’ Feeling heat wash over her face, she faltered, taken off guard.
    â€˜Come now,’ he pressed. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t thought it out. One day? Two days? A week—a month? How long?’
    â€˜As soon as possible was what I imagined.’
    â€˜Well, imagine again. If you imagined I’d meekly consent to this madness, you were far off track.’
    â€˜If you recall, my lord, you did consent to it. Very well, we will wed at your convenience, I suppose.’
    â€˜And I suppose that would be never.’
    â€˜You mean you will go back on your word?’
    â€˜You can bet your damned life there is nothing that would please me more. But were I to do that, I would blacken my reputation. The short of it is, Miss Fanshaw, I don’t want to marry you—and if you know what is good for you, you wouldn’t want to marry me either. Which is why I am leaving it up to you to cry off.’
    She gaped at him. It was her turn to be nervous. ‘Cry off?’
    His eyes mocked her. ‘That’s what I said. It’s very simple. You can let it be known that your forfeit was a joke, that you did it for a laugh, that you had no intention of holding me to my word. You will have to be the one to say it. Everyone must hear it from your own lips.’
    â€˜But I can’t do that.’
    â€˜No? Pray tell me why not?’
    â€˜Because it would be a lie.’
    â€˜You mean you actually do want to marry me?’
    She looked at him surreptitiously. ‘Yes,’ she replied—not that she had any idea what marriage to him would entail once she had caught him. ‘I will not withdraw the forfeit.’
    She would not beg him to wed her. Nor would she back down. But